


Just Push Play

by memorysdaughter



Category: Critical Role (Web Series)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, F/F, Fluff, Fluff and Hurt/Comfort, Group Therapy, Inspired by Music, Music, Near Death Experiences, Playlist, autistic keyleth
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-06-23
Updated: 2018-06-23
Packaged: 2019-05-27 05:28:53
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 6,646
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15017660
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/memorysdaughter/pseuds/memorysdaughter
Summary: Pike goes to group therapy after she dies.It seems like the thing to do.





	Just Push Play

**Author's Note:**

> I started this fic two years ago for the amazing teammompike on Tumblr because she's a huge fan of Pike/Keyleth (same), and it just sort of languished in my "unfinished" stack for a very long time... until a few days ago, when I got a huge spike of inspiration and finished it up. So, here's to you, Ari. I hope you like it.

[Just Push Play - the songs](https://www.youtube.com/playlist?list=PLt6ZFLibQwfzVNO8ycd9I-gHYNucp4WcS)

* * *

 

 

Pike goes to group therapy after she dies.

It seems like the thing to do.

 

  
She’s the shortest, smallest, most fragile looking one in the room, and attracts the attention of nearly everyone in the room the first time she enters, but thankfully she’s blessedly unaware of it.  She has, after all, spent the last six months with one or more medical professionals looking at her with some sort of pity in their eyes.

That attention doesn’t last long, since Grog brings her into the room.  He’s twice her size and almost three times her weight, and he tends to give genital-shriveling glares at anybody who stares at her for too long.  He makes sure she gets to a chair and kneels down next to her. _You don’t have to stay,_ he says.

Pike looks at him, his face as distant and soft as most things seem to her these days, and shakes her head.

 _I’ll be right outside,_  he says.

She just touches his cheek.

He leaves, but he keeps looking back at her worriedly as he goes.

Like so many other things, she doesn’t notice.

 

* * *

 

Keyleth goes to group therapy after one of her professors suggests she might need “more socialization.”

The fact that she doesn’t understand what that means and has to ask her psychiatrist kind of tells her it’s the right thing to do.

 

She shows up late, all gangly and clumsy, and while she was hoping to come into the room quietly and just sort of slip into a seat in the back, she trips on the way in and takes out a rack of folding chairs.  It’s only when she finishes scooping papers and books back into her bag does she realize that the group is sitting in a circle, and they’re all staring at her.

At least, all of them except for one.

And that one has an empty chair next to her.

Keyleth apologizes under her breath and awkwardly makes her way over to the empty seat.  She slumps down into it, wishing she was small enough to fold herself into a ball and disappear.  As it is she dumps her bag on the floor once more and has to bend down to pick it all up. When she straightens up again, she meets eyes with the person next to her.

She’s never been the type to believe in angels, but she’s pretty sure one is sitting next to her in group therapy on a Thursday afternoon.

 

* * *

 

Pike hears a loud noise from the front of the room, but she doesn’t feel much like turning her head towards it.  Whatever it is, it’ll either resolve itself or she’ll have to deal with it eventually, as with most things. She looks down at the grubby toes of her Converse sneakers, which thanks to her height swing a good few inches above the brown tile floor, wondering idly if she took her meds this morning.

 _Grog was with me this morning,_ she thinks, though Grog has been with her every morning since she got home from the hospital, and most mornings even when she _was_ in the hospital.   _He probably made sure I did._

Some little part of her is worried about how she seems to care so little.

The rest of her is too numb.

There’s another, softer noise next to her, and Pike looks up from her sneaker toes as a gangly mess of limbs and a bright flare of red hair dumps itself into the seat to her left.  She’s too slow to tear her eyes away from this new person, and ends up making eye contact with the gorgeous redhead.

The other woman’s bright green eyes are the first thing in six months Pike sees in total clarity, and a warm feeling spreads upward from her toes into her belly.  Some of the heaviness in her chest dissipates. Unconsciously she brings her hand up to her neck, twining her fingers into her blue scarf, and she feels her mouth open, feels a word - one of her first in what seems like forever - slip out into the room.

“Wow.”

 

* * *

 

Keyleth forces herself to focus on the group’s leader, who also happens to be her psychiatrist, Allura.  Allura’s saying something about opening themselves up to new experiences, to trusting their group members, to feeling like this is a safe space.  It’s hard to keep her attention on Allura’s words when a literal golden angel is sitting next to her.

Well, actually, Keyleth knows this other woman can’t be an angel.  But there’s soft afternoon light coming in through a window, and as it turns out, white hair can look an awful lot like a halo.  And somehow that woman’s blue quilted jacket is shot through with gold threads, and it glows, too.

She’s so gob-smacked that it takes a minute to realize that Allura’s said her name, and that the rest of the participants in the therapy group - minus the angel next to her - are staring at her.

“Oh, um, I’m Keyleth,” she says. “I…”

“We’re saying one thing about ourselves that we’d like to work on,” Allura prompts gently.

“I don’t know what I want to work on,” Keyleth says. “I don’t really know why I’m here, except some professor said I was weird and should make some friends.”

Someone else in the group titters, and leans over to whisper something to the girl next to her, and Keyleth feels her cheeks burn with shame.

“I hope you can find those kinds of relationships here,” Allura tells her warmly.

Keyleth sinks down in her chair.

 

* * *

 

Pike hears her name, and comes back to the room in time to hear Allura say, “Pike?  Do you want to introduce yourself?”

She’s still stuck in that soft in-between world, and words float to the top of her consciousness without being able to make it out of her mouth.  She tries to focus on Allura’s face, or on the room itself, but she can’t. Something like a panicked gulp escapes her lips, and she grips the sides of her metal folding chair tightly.

She hears laughter, and then someone says, “God, are all the freaks in the room like this?  I mean, this one looks like a baby with that fucking scarf around her neck, and she’s too gorked out to talk.  And that one’s some sort of weird gazelle-giraffe, fumbling in here saying how she needs to make friends. Like, no fucking way.”

Allura whips her head around and says something.  Pike drifts out again, and when she makes it back that girl is gone and Allura is next to her, a hand on her shoulder. “Pike?”

Her heart starts racing and she’s trapped.  She can’t breathe. She attempts to speak, but can only reach up towards Allura’s face.

Allura turns away from Pike for a second, and Pike closes her eyes.  Her chest aches and her limbs are buzzing, tingling, because she’s not getting enough air.

“Pike,” she hears Grog say, and he sounds worried. “Pike, open your eyes.”

She really _wants_ to, but everything seems to weigh a hundred pounds.

Something pinches down on her finger and that finally gets her attention.  She opens her eyes and looks down. Sure enough, there’s a pulse oximeter on her hand, and Grog is kneeling before her, unspooling oxygen tubing from the big backpack he carries. “Come on,” he says softly but urgently, and he reaches up to fasten the cannula on.

Pike brings one hand up and tries to stop him.  Her limbs feel like lead, and he manages to get the tubing in place.

Grog leans towards her and scoops her off the chair.  Pike knows she should feel upset that she’s being held like a baby, but she’s too distant to care anymore.  She closes her eyes.

 

* * *

 

Allura dismisses the rest of the group, saying they’ll meet again next week and apologizing for things being cut short, but Keyleth can’t move. “What’s wrong with her?” she says.  She’s finding it hard to believe that someone as beautiful and fragile as her angel could have something wrong with her.

She leans over the big man, looking down into the face of the angel girl, and sees for the first time a jagged scar bisecting the angel’s right eye. “What happened?”

The big man looks up at her, an expression of irritation on his face. “And _who_ are you?”

“Oh!  I’m Keyleth,” she says, and sticks out her hand.

He frowns.

“Sorry,” she mutters, withdrawing it quickly.

“Keyleth,” Allura says, putting a hand on her shoulder, “why don’t you head home?  We’ll meet again next Thursday.”

Keyleth gets to her feet awkwardly and picks up her bag.  As she makes her way towards the door, the big man says, “Wait.”

She turns back towards him.

“If you’re… not busy… could you help me?”

Keyleth nods.

“I need to get her out to the car.  Could you carry this backpack and stay right behind me?”

“Yeah.  Yeah, I can do that.”

“It’s pretty heavy,” he tells her.

“Oh, that’s okay.  I’m really strong. I know I don’t look like it, because I’m tall and skinny, but…”

“Good,” he interrupts her. “By the way, I’m Grog.”

“Your name is Grog?”

“It’s actually Greg.  Grog’s just a nickname,” he tells her. “And you are?”

“Oh!  I’m Keyleth.  It’s not a nickname.  It’s just my name.”

“Okay, Keyleth.  Let’s do this.”

Keyleth grabs the backpack - it _is_ heavier than she expected - and starts following him towards the door.

“You sure you don’t want me to call an ambulance?” Allura asks softly.

“Nah, she’ll be okay,” Grog replies. “I think she just panicked.”

“I should have thought about that,” Allura says. “I just thought since she’s been doing so well in individual therapy…”

“It’s okay,” Grog says. “It’s nobody’s fault.”

Allura nods, but she still seems upset. “Just call and let me know you got home safely, please.”

“I will.”

Grog’s legs are so long that Keyleth has to jog after him.  They go out into the bright sun, and Grog leads her over to an innocuous looking minivan in a handicapped parking spot.  Grog shifts the tiny angel woman against him and manages to get the door open. “Pike,” he says, “we’re going to go home, okay?  Just keep breathing.”

He lays her on the bench seat, strokes her white-blond hair, and then turns back to Keyleth. “Thanks for carrying this for me.”

“Is Pike a nickname too?” Keyleth asks.

Grog looks at her, confused.

“You said Greg is your real name,” Keyleth reminds him, “and Grog is your nickname.  Is Pike a nickname or her real name?”

“You’re a bit odd,” Grog says.

Keyleth ducks her head. “A lot of people tell me that,” she mutters.

A heavy hand comes down on her shoulder. “A lot of people say the same thing about me.  And about Pike.”

Keyleth looks back up. “Really?”

Grog nods. “What are you doing right now?  Do you need a ride somewhere?”

“Um… I just… I thought this therapy thing was going to take longer.  And I don’t really… have anywhere to go.”

“I know this is a bit out-of-the-blue, but if you wanted, you could come and have lunch with me,” Grog says. “As a thank-you for helping us.”

Keyleth’s stomach rumbles, as if making the decision for her.

“Pike’s grandfather is a great cook,” Grog says as he opens the van’s driver-side door.

“Are we… are we friends now?” Keyleth asks.

Grog gives her a grin as he gets in the vehicle. “Let’s just say we’re not enemies.”

Keyleth has no idea what that means, but she jumps into the van as he starts it up.

 

* * *

 

It’s one thing to pass out in one place and wake up in another place - Pike’s done it a lot.  It’s another thing entirely to pass out in one place next to a gorgeous redhead and wake up in a different place next to that same gorgeous redhead.

She blinks confusedly.  The room is hers, the stuff hers, and yet this strange woman is still there.

Pike sits up.  Her chest throbs and her head spins and she retches.  The monitor next to her bed starts beeping louder, and then an alarm goes off.

“Oh!  Oh, God!  Hey, you’re awake!  It’s okay - it’s okay - I mean - _Grog!”_

_How does this woman know Grog?_

The door opens and Grog comes in. “Hey, Pike, you’re okay,” he says, walking towards her with his hands up. “Take a deep breath.”

Pike tries.  It makes her retch again.

Grog sits down on the bed and puts his hands on her forearms, squeezing them against her body. “Breathe with me, buddy.”

“Guh… guh…” she gulps out.

“I’m right here,” Grog tells her, and he puts his forehead against hers, still squeezing her arms.

Pike closes her eyes and lets the sensations of Grog’s body against hers slow her heart rate.  The monitor drops back into silence.

From the other side of the room comes a voice: “Um, hi!  I’m Keyleth!”

 

* * *

 

Neither of them goes back to group therapy.

But Keyleth comes back to Wilhand’s house every Thursday, and she makes lemonade, and she and Pike eat lunch out on the back porch.  Grog stays in the house and watches TV or something, but Pike knows he’s keeping his eye on them.

She likes Keyleth.  Keyleth chatters away about whatever’s on her mind, and she doesn’t seem to find it strange that Pike doesn’t talk.  Keyleth never asks why Pike wears her quilted blue jacket and her scarf all the time, or why her bedroom’s full of medical equipment.  Keyleth doesn’t even seem to think it’s odd when Grog lets it slip that he’s Pike’s brother.

“I wish I had a brother!” she chirps, and then goes on telling Pike about a baby bird she rescued when she was twelve.

After ten Thursdays together, it rains.  Pike stands at the window and looks out at the back porch.  They won’t be having lunch out there today.

“That’s okay,” Keyleth says from behind her, as though she can sense what Pike’s thinking. “We’ll have a picnic inside!”

They do, and Grog joins them.  They probably look ridiculous, sitting on a tablecloth Keyleth spread over the living room floor, but Pike likes it.  She likes being near Keyleth. Keyleth’s… special.

The rain sluices down, slapping against windows like a familiar friend.  Grog gets restless after lunch and goes out into the garage to tinker with things.  Pike feels exactly the opposite, and she finds herself yawning and stretching, trying to keep herself awake.  It doesn’t work, though, and some time after she finishes the last of her lemonade, she can’t resist the urge to close her eyes, just for a second or two…

 

* * *

 

Keyleth watches with alarm as Pike suddenly crashes to the carpet. “Grog?” she calls.

Through the open breezeway door he responds, “Yeah?”

“Pike… she’s…”

In an instant he’s up the steps and into the house, looking down at his tiny sister. “What happened?”

“She was just…” Keyleth waves her hand.  She never knows how to act around Grog. She wants him to trust her, wants him to understand she’d never, _ever_ do anything to hurt Pike, but she isn’t sure how to get that message across.

Grog kneels down next to Pike and puts his giant fingers on her wrist.  After a few quiet moments he seems to relax. “She’s fine,” he says. “Sleeping.”

“Oh.” Now Keyleth feels even more awkward.  She plays with the thin bangles on her wrist.

“Maybe I should make her a little more comfortable,” Grog says, and he scoops Pike up from the floor, settling her on the big squishy couch without much effort.

“Um, should I… go?”

Grog shrugs. “That’s up to you.  I know Pike likes when you’re here, so… you can stay if you want to.”

“Oh!” Keyleth’s cheeks burn with the sudden half-compliment.

“For what it’s worth, I like when you’re here, too,” Grog says.

Now her face is on fire. “You do?”

“You’re good for Pike.  She needs someone other than me and Wilhand in her life.”

Keyleth awkwardly sits down on the very edge of the couch.

“Stay for awhile, Keyleth,” Grog says.

“Um, okay.  If you’re sure.”

“I’m sure.” Grog turns to go back out to the garage.

“Hey, do you remember the first day we met?” Keyleth calls after him.

He stops and returns. “Yeah, of course I do.”

“And I asked you what happened to Pike?”

Grog nods.

“Are you ever going to tell me?”

“No,” Grog says, but he smiles when he says it. “I’m going to let _her_ tell you.”

“But she doesn’t… talk…”

“When she feels comfortable with you, she’ll tell you.”

“So I’m just supposed to wait?”

“Mm-hmm.”

“I could be so much more helpful to her if I knew, though.  I could watch out for certain things, or help her with things, or even be supportive when -”

“Keyleth.  Slow down,” Grog says. “What you’re doing is already helpful.  She’s got me and Wilhand for all those boring fiddly things. You… you’re special, because you don’t demand anything of her.  You don’t make her take pills or check her vitals or go to appointments or any of the other stuff I have to do. _That’s_ why you’re helpful - you make her feel normal.”

“Okay,” Keyleth says, twisting her fingers in the hem of her shirt.  She still feels let down, though. “Hey, Grog?”

“Yeah?”

“Can you just tell me one thing?”

“If it’s in my power to do so, yeah.”

“Is she going to die?”

“We all die,” Grog says, but the sudden flash of fear in her eyes must tell him she needs more than that.  A little softer, he tells her, “No. It’s extremely unlikely.”

He pats her on the shoulder and goes back out to the garage.

Once he’s gone Keyleth looks over at Pike, sound asleep.  A bit hesitantly, she pushes herself further onto the couch, snuggling up right against Pike, close enough to carefully run her fingers through the ends of Pike’s hair.  It’s something she’s wanted to do for weeks. Pike’s still the most glorious, golden angel Keyleth’s ever met, so fragile and spun glass that she doesn’t seem real half the time.

Keyleth wants to protect her.

But mostly Keyleth just wants to be near her.

 

* * *

 

Pike wakes cradled in someone’s arms.  At first it’s alarming, but then she smells jasmine and sandalwood and realizes it’s Keyleth.  Then it’s beautiful and wonderful; she’s safe and calm. It’s warm and cozy with the rain coming down outside.  Pike wants the moment to last as long as possible - someone’s touching her like she’s a real person and not a patient for the first time in months.

She wants to tell Keyleth how much this means to her, but her voice won’t work.  Normally it’s not a problem, since Grog and Wilhand and Allura have all gotten used to her silences and her scribblings on legal pads or her single-word responses.  But Keyleth… Keyleth makes Pike want to be better.

Tears form in her eyes before she can stop them, and she reaches up with fisted hands to try to wipe them away.

“Pike?” Keyleth asks, sounding alarmed. “Did I hurt you?”

Pike shakes her head.

“What’s wrong?”

She _wants_ to tell her.  She _wants_ the words to come out.

They won’t.

It makes Pike cry harder, little raspy sounds back in her throat.   _Even my sobbing is pathetic,_ she thinks miserably.

Keyleth pulls her into a sitting position and wraps her arms around her.  Pike leans into Keyleth’s embrace and just cries.

She’s not sure how long they stay that way, Pike in a ball with Keyleth holding her tightly, but at last Pike finds the sobs slowing, more mewing kitten cries than raspy chokes.  Keyleth strokes her hair. “You know, after you fell asleep, I asked Grog why… why you were different.”

She makes no move to explain it, but Pike’s pretty sure she understands what Keyleth means.

“He said it was your story to tell.”

It’s total bullshit on Grog’s part.  He’s had to tell any number of people over the last months, and he’s perfectly capable of telling Keyleth if he so chose.  It’s a challenge, then. He wants her to tell Keyleth. He wants to goad her into talking.

It’s both anger-inducing and brilliant at the same time.

Pike presses her fingers against her lips, the way she does in Allura’s office when she doesn’t want to talk.  Then she wriggles forwards off the couch and holds her hand out to Keyleth expectantly.

“You want to show me something?”

Pike nods.

Keyleth slips her hand into Pike’s, and it seems like their fingers were meant to mesh together.  Pike looks up at Keyleth for a brief second before tugging her friend away from the couch, back upstairs, where at least _some_ of the answers are located.

 

* * *

 

Keyleth hasn’t been upstairs at Pike’s house after the first time she’d been there.  They eat lunch on the main floor and then Keyleth leaves. It’s the natural order of things.  She’s not quite sure what to expect when Pike leads her up the stairs.

It’s a fairly normal hallway, but Keyleth still feels nervous.  She can’t remember the last time she had a friend who liked her enough to show her their bedroom.  Maybe never. Maybe she’s never had a friend -

She breaks off the run-away thought train when she realizes Pike’s looking expectantly at her, her free hand on the doorknob. “I’m okay,” she tells Pike.

Pike shrugs and opens the door, letting go of Keyleth’s hand as she does so.  She goes into the room and starts looking through the dresser drawers for something.

Keyleth tried to remember as much about Pike’s medical equipment as she could, in order to look it up on the Internet when she got home.  She wasn’t able to remember things quite as well as she would have liked, though, and so she still has no idea what’s wrong with Pike. Now she stands in the middle of the room, looking at the blank screens and the wires and tubes.

Something touches her hand and she looks down to see Pike holding out a fat photo album.

“You want me to look at this?”

Pike nods, and indicates the bed.

Keyleth sits down hesitantly.  Pike is more comfortable, and she jumps up onto the bed, sitting close to Keyleth.  Her breath is warm on Keyleth’s arm and it’s a little disorienting.

The cover of the photo album is cheap taupe leather, and it looks worn.  Keyleth flips it open and looks down at the first pictures - Grog next to a surprisingly large metal sculpture of a man, an older man Keyleth knows is Pike’s grandfather Wilhand, and a dark-haired girl that looks just like Pike.

“Is that your twin sister?” Keyleth asks.

Pike hesitates for a moment before shaking her head no.

“That’s not… _you,_  is it?”

Pike nods.

“And you just… changed your hair color?”

Pike points back to the photos.

Keyleth turns the pages.  She sees Pike, dark-haired Pike, that is, and Wilhand at a picnic in the park, Grog graduating from some sort of art school, a birthday party, a wedding, a Fourth of July get-together, another birthday, Halloween (Grog as a mime, Pike as a ballerina), Christmas.  Then there’s a few blank spaces where no photographs have been inserted, which is strange, since there are still more pictures in the back of the book. Puzzled, Keyleth flips to the next section.

She’s seen movies or TV shows with car crashes, but the one that shows up in the next four photographs is nothing like a crash from a primetime-slot medical drama or an action thriller.  It doesn’t even _look_ like a car anymore, just a warped, twisted ball of metal and glass and rubber that maybe was a car at some point in the past.  Keyleth isn’t sure what kind of an accident turns a car from a reliable vehicle into so much scrap metal, she just knows she’s glad she wasn’t involved in it.

Then she realizes who must have been in the car, and she turns to Pike, wordlessly putting a finger to the crumpled car as if to ask, _Were you in there?_

Pike nods.

“Oh,” Keyleth says, and her voice sounds hollow.  Her fingers are numb and yet somehow she’s able to turn the next page.

Instead of a mangled car, it’s a mangled body.  Pike’s body, in a hospital bed, tubes and wires everywhere.  A tube in her mouth, bandages covering her right eye, stickers with wires attached to them on her forehead.  Swollen face, bruises black and blue, too-pale Pike against too-white blankets and sheets.

Over the course of six photographs, a harrowing journey is transcribed.  The tube in Pike’s mouth is replaced by one in her neck. A thin tube appears, taped to her cheek before running down her nose.  Her face swells again and more bandages show up, wrapped around her head and her eye.

And then the photos get closer, documenting Pike’s head.  Specifically, her hair. There are ten photographs in total, each one dated, showing her hair going from its dark, almost-black shade to the bright white of the tiny woman now sitting next to Keyleth on the bed.

“After the accident, your hair… just changed color?”

Pike nods.

“That’s so weird,” Keyleth says, and then she realizes how that might have sounded. “Oh!  I mean, _you’re_ not weird.  It’s just something I’ve never heard before, of someone’s hair color changing in response to massive trauma.  I suppose it’s not…”

She gets cut off abruptly as Pike’s lips touch hers.  The kiss is sweet and gentle and tastes vaguely like lemonade, and Keyleth loves it.  A spark of something warm runs from her toes to her head, her blood fizzing like champagne, and she has to catch her breath when the kiss finally ends.

“Wow,” Keyleth says. “Um, wow.  That was…”

Pike just smiles, and Keyleth can’t remember a time she’s been so happy.

 

* * *

 

The next Thursday Keyleth comes to the door as she always does, but only Grog is there to meet her. “Pike’s sick,” he says without much preamble. “I’m going to the hospital to see her if you’d like a ride.”

“What?” Keyleth feels like the floor’s going to drop out from beneath her. “She’s… I just saw her last week.”

“These things just happen,” Grog says.

“Because… because of the accident?”  
  
Grog hesitates just for a split second. “She told you.”

“She didn’t even have to say anything,” Keyleth says.  She’s spent the entire week worrying about what Pike related to her, if it was going to make Pike look any different to her.

Grog smiles.

“Is she going to be okay?”

Grog nods. “She just… she’s more prone to infections because of her trach.”

“Her what?”

At this Grog looks taken aback. “Did you not…”

Keyleth furrows her brow.

Grog sets down the bag he’s carrying and beckons her inside.  Keyleth follows him, unsteady and unsure. She feels like she doesn’t actually know Pike at all.   _But you do,_ a voice says in her chest.   _You know her._

The memory of a lemonade kiss on her lips, Keyleth looks over at Grog.  He’s holding up a picture that was seemingly buried under a bunch of other things on their fridge.  It’s a picture of Pike and Grog, sitting on a bench in front of… it looks like the ocean. Pike is grinning, Grog looks like he’s laughing.

And Pike isn’t wearing her jacket or her scarf.  And for the first time Keyleth can plainly see what’s beneath the jacket and the scarf.

Pike’s little body is scarred.  Her neck, her arms, her skin from her chest up is marred by burns.  For some reason the burns make the scar running through her eye stand out further.  And there in the middle of her burned neck is a tube.

Keyleth reaches out and touches the tube, the tube in the picture. “Has that…?”

“It’s been there the entire time you’ve known her,” Grog answers gently.

“Oh.”

He tilts his head. “You really like her, don’t you?”

Keyleth’s hand comes up to her mouth in a single unconscious motion.  She bows her head. “Yeah,” she mumbles.

“She really likes you,” Grog says.

Keyleth’s face goes hot and she looks up at Grog. “How do you know?”

Grog shrugs. “I just do.”

“Then how come she never showed me…?” Keyleth waves her hand at the photo.

“You’re the first new person she’s met since the accident,” Grog says. “Well, no, strike that.  You’re the first _friend_ she’s met since the accident.  I think she wanted you to like her for who she is, not because you… pitied her or something.”

“I don’t pity her!” Keyleth says.

“I know you don’t,” Grog says, holding out his hand in a calming gesture. “She likes that.”

“But if she doesn’t want me to see her… I mean, see her scars and everything… is she going to be okay with me visiting her at the hospital?”

Grog shrugs. “Guess we’ll find out.”

He picks up the duffel bag and looks over at Keyleth. “You coming?”

 

* * *

 

When they arrive at the hospital Keyleth’s still nervous, twisting her fingers in the hem of her shirt the way Allura’s coached her not to do.   _Still hands, Keyleth._

Grog seems perfectly comfortable as they navigate to the information desk, and exchanges pleasantries with an older woman who beams up at him as she writes out two visitors’ name tags.  Grog slaps one on his broad chest and hands Keyleth the other. Awkwardly she takes it from him, sticking it to her shirt and somehow wrinkling it in the process.

On the fourth floor Grog similarly charms the nurses at the desk, Keyleth following behind in his wake like a lost sheep trailing down an unfamiliar road.  She’s overwhelmed by the smells and sounds of the hospital, so different from anywhere she spends any time. She wonders how long it took Grog before he was comfortable coming to this place with its beeping, clicking, whirring environment permeated by the smells of antiseptic and hot linens and sadness.

But as they walk down the hall together to the doorway of Pike’s room, she realizes _how_ he does it, because standing just outside Keyleth can see Pike, tiny and white-haired, curled up in the bed asleep, and her fear and anxiety melt away.  It takes her a few seconds to focus on anything else, and even when she can breathe again and take in the room around her, she still doesn’t care about the wires and machines, doesn’t care about the way Pike seems scrawny and pale in the hospital gown, doesn’t care about the way she can see scars on Pike’s body, doesn’t care about the blue corrugated tube snaking up over the side of the hospital bed, attaching itself to Pike’s neck.  She just sees beautiful Pike, and she wants to run over and climb up into the bed and hug Pike.

She _doesn’t,_  though, because Pike is asleep and also Grog is there and she thinks it might be just a _little_ too much.

Grog moves into the room with ease and greets the nurse next to the bed. “Kima!  Great to see you today.”

“What up, tall stuff?” the nurse replies. “And who’s this tall drink of water?”

Keyleth feels her cheeks go hot.

“This is Keyleth.  She’s a very special friend to Pike,” Grog says.  He sets the duffel bag on the windowsill.

“Nice to meet you, Keyleth,” the nurse says.

“Hi,” Keyleth says, only a little awkwardly.

Kima asks Grog to step out into the hallway with her, “just for an update,” and Keyleth takes the opportunity to sit down at Pike’s bedside.  She gently reaches over and slips her hand into Pike’s, meshing their fingers with an easy, gentle movement. “Hi,” Keyleth whispers, and even though her voice gets sucked up into the machine noise surrounding them, she feels better for it. “I missed you.”

Then she runs out of things to say, and just sits there, looking around the room.  It’s not a bad room, as far as rooms go; Keyleth remembers her mother being in a hospital room and from what her brain’s digging up, that room was smaller and darker and smelled worse.  This one is fairly well-lit, with big windows, and there’s an almost-peaceful feeling since one of the machines is producing an _in-out_ ocean-wave sort of noise.

As her gaze takes in the rest of the room, she realizes there’s a small packet on top of the over-bed table, only a few feet away.  There’s a pink sticky note on it, and without really intending to, Keyleth reaches over and picks it up.

_Grog - Can you make sure this gets to Keyleth?  I worked on it all night, so I’m sorry if I’m asleep when you show up.  Love you._

Keyleth turns her head to make sure Grog’s still talking to the nurse in the hallway.  With a little thrill of delicious mystery running up her spine, she slips the packet into her bag.

 

* * *

 

The visit’s over quickly, since they stay for half an hour and Pike doesn’t wake up once, and Keyleth mumbles goodbye to Grog back at Wilhand’s house twenty minutes or so after that.  She’s almost buzzing with anticipation to get back to her apartment, to see what Pike worked so hard on creating for her.

When she’s safely alone, though, the contents of the packet turn out to be a little disappointing: it’s only a flash drive.

 _It must be important if she worked on it all night,_ Keyleth tells herself, and she plugs it into her laptop.

The drive contains three files: a video, a text document, and a link to a Spotify playlist.  The video is labeled: “Start Here.” The playlist says “Play Me Second.” The text document’s title is: “Look at me after the music starts.”

It’s the kind of order Keyleth appreciates, and she obediently clicks on the video file.

Pike’s face appears on the screen, smiling at Keyleth.  She’s upright in her hospital bed, in the room where Keyleth was not so long ago, the _in-out_ ocean-wave noise accompanying a rhythmic pulsing of the corrugated tube over her neck, and she looks so beautiful that for a brief second Keyleth forgets how to breathe.  She’s still stunned every time Pike continues to exist in the world, the way she’s been since their first meeting.

The Pike on the screen waves at Keyleth and then picks up an index card from next to her.   _Hi Keyleth,_  it reads in blue Magic Marker.

It’s the first card of many, each covered in Pike’s neat handwriting.

_I’m so sorry that I’m not at home.  I know today is the day we usually see each other, and it makes me sad that I won’t be there when you come today.  Being with you has been one of the greatest joys of the last few months of my life. I am so appreciative for your friendship.  But since I can’t talk as well as I want to most of the time, I had to figure out another way to show you how I feel._

The last card just has a blue heart drawn on it.  Then the video ends and Keyleth finds her heart’s beating faster and she’s not quite sure why.  She pulls up the playlist and clicks “Play.”

As the first song starts Keyleth opens the text document.

 _Song One: Heavy (Linkin Park).  This is my brain… I feel like it got scrambled as much as my body did in the accident.  Sometimes maybe more. It’s so hard to explain it to people, though, because all of the physical stuff shows up so much faster._ **_I’m holding on / why is everything so heavy? / holding on / so much more than I can carry / I keep dragging around what’s bringing me down / if I just let go I’d be set free._ ** _You make me want to let go._

 _Song Two: I Believe in You (Michael Buble).  And then you showed up in my life and I’m not sure how I got quite so lucky.  Yeah, this song’s about a dude figuring things out about a woman, but I hope you’ll overlook that._ **_I believe in starting over / I can see that your heart is true / I believe in good things coming back to you / You’re the light that lifts me higher / So bright, you guide me through / I believe in you._ ** _You just shine, Keyleth, and I wish you could see that._

 _Song Three: How Does a Moment Last Forever (Celine Dion).  I tried and tried to figure out how to communicate to everyone in my life after the accident.  So many people gave up on me. You never did. You never made me feel bad about not speaking. You just loved me._ **_How does a moment last forever? / How does our happiness endure? / Through the darkest of our troubles / Love is beauty, love is pure._ **

_Song Four: Ecstasy (Crooked Still).  This one’s about God and I don’t think we ever talked about that and I don’t want to assume anything about religion so don’t listen to that too much but it’s not so much about the words but the music and the way her voice sounds and the way it makes me feel when I close my eyes._

Keyleth closes her eyes and just listens.

_Song Five: Little Sadie (Crooked Still).  Just listen, and maybe someday we’ll dance together._

Keyleth’s pretty sure she’d like that.  She leans back on the couch and lets the music flow over her.  She’s somewhere outside her body, suspended in time and space, each song that plays a golden thread connecting her to Pike, like the golden threads woven through Pike’s favorite jacket - each one a flash of light in a seemingly dark sea.  It’s all so perfect, a bubble encapsulating her and her feelings, and in these long moments of music she’s not weird or different or friendless or alone - she’s just Keyleth, Pike’s Keyleth, and that all makes sense, like it’s supposed to.

 

* * *

 

Pike smiles when the door to her hospital room opens and Keyleth stands in the doorway.  She picks up an index card from in front of her and holds it out towards Keyleth, who crosses the floor to see what’s written on it:

_Was wondering when you’d show up._

Keyleth’s cheeks are flushed and it looks like she’s been crying. “Well, you just… you… all that perfect music!”

Pike just grins.

“Why did you _do_ that to me?”

Pike grabs the Magic Marker and scrawls out her answer.  _Some things people just need to feel._

Keyleth nods, and before Pike knows what’s happening, Keyleth’s lips are against hers.  It’s sweet and unexpected and there’s fireworks in Pike’s head and she loves it.

“You’re damn right,” Keyleth murmurs as she pulls back, sparks in her eyes. “Now, move over.”

Pike forces air out through her trach, loud enough to say, “Hmm?”

Keyleth leans in and scoops her up, moving her and her tubes and wires gently to the other side of the bed, then hops up next to Pike, settling herself somewhat gracefully.  She pulls her iPod out of her bag and cues it up, starting Pike’s playlist.

Pike puts her head on Keyleth’s shoulder and closes her eyes.  She feels Keyleth’s hand slip into hers and she smiles, letting the music carry her away - carry _them_ away, two in one.

It’s like nothing else, but it’s absolutely perfect.

**Author's Note:**

> You can find me on Tumblr as memorysdaughter. This is cross-posted there, with a link to the playlist there as well.


End file.
